


tear your curtains down

by twohourstraffic



Series: take this sinking boat and point it home [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety Attacks, First Meetings, M/M, Meet-Cute, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 15:58:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6526669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twohourstraffic/pseuds/twohourstraffic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack Zimmermann often finds himself eating alone in restaurants. He can’t remember the last time he was interrupted by an unexpected news story, a panic attack and a chatty food blogger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tear your curtains down

Jack Zimmermann frequently finds himself eating in restaurants alone.

Although the prospect had originally terrified him, his therapist had suggested it as a low-pressure way to leave the house and surround himself with people without really having to speak to anyone. _Ordering food is socialisation,_ Sam had assured him. _Something is more than nothing._ Ultimately, it’s an opportunity to complete several items on his daily checklist: showering, eating at least one meal involving vegetables, spending an hour in public and having a face-to-face conversation.

What had begun as a chore has slowly become his favourite part of the week. When the original fear abated, Jack did some research online and found a blog, Easy As Pie, which reviewed restaurants in the area. He printed out a blog post of the fifty best for the year and decided to work through them. The list, stuck to a special corkboard in his kitchen, is now covered with annotations and highlights – a good restaurant receives an asterisk, with favourite dishes scrawled in the margins, and lines through the options that haven’t lived up to expectations.

One night, Jack finds himself at Pho Real, a Vietnamese place that had established a sterling reputation in the year that it had been open. Between the open kitchen, the bustling servers, the smell of frying chili and the 90s pop blasting through the speakers, the place was loud. He allows himself a minute of pride when considering how overwhelming it would have been a year ago. _Celebrate the little victories,_ Sam’s voice sings cheerily in his head. He smiles a little and pulls the menu towards himself.

 _Although this may sound obvious, you have to try the pho,_ the blog post had raved. _Start with rice paper rolls, get the beef pho with extra bean sprouts (or vegetarian if you’re that way inclined) and finish with the coconut sago or the crème caramel. Wash it all down with a local beer or lemon iced tea and you’ll give your tastebuds a real treat without breaking the bank._

Jack decides on his order and eventually flags down a waiter. His drink arrives quickly and he sits sipping it and casually assessing his surroundings. Pretty standard crowd for a Wednesday night – a few couples on dates, singles on their phones or flicking through magazines, a family with an adorable toddler colouring happily, four women in suits (colleagues?) having much-needed after work drinks. From what he can hear, Michelle is a saint for putting up with Justin, especially considering how much work he had given her after lunch when he knew that she had to leave early. Jack can only assume that they are right.

His attention is drawn by one of the phone singles looking up at another single, doing a double take and saying something excitedly. They’re too far away to hear, but it looks like the woman in the blue shirt recognises the man in the red beanie. He smiles widely at her and nods politely as he listens to whatever she is saying. Although he can’t see her face, Blue Shirt’s gesturing grows more and more pronounced. He’s not sure if she’s had a few drinks, or if this guy is a big deal.

Jack blushes and looks away when he realises that he has been staring at Red Beanie for at least twenty seconds, trying to place him. For the life of him, he can’t work out who he is. He glances back and locks eyes with Red Beanie, who smiles softly before giving his attention back to Blue Shirt.

His rice paper rolls arrive and he digs in, moaning when the hoisin-drenched vermicelli hits his tongue. He has no idea who Easy As Pie is but, once again, they have hit the nail on the head. The combination of green mango and shrimp is honestly brilliant. Not for the first time, he contemplates leaving a comment on the blog post just to thank the author for their tips.

When he finishes the rolls, Jack pushes the plate to one side and pulls out his phone. He’s not usually a fan of using technology while he eats, but he just finished his latest foray into Agatha Christie and hasn’t had the opportunity to get back to the library yet. His lock screen is a series of missed calls and texts, most of them from Shitty. Heart racing, he swipes the first one open.

 **Your Platonic Soulmate:** please don’t go on cnn

 **Your Platonic Soulmate:** or abc

 **Your Platonic Soulmate:** or nhl.com

 **Your Platonic Soulmate:** seriously

 **Your Platonic Soulmate:** so over these motherfuckers, haven’t they done enough at this point

 **Your Platonic Soulmate:** it’s actually getting outrageous, i bet i know enough to file an injunction. how fucking hard can it be? just say the word and i’m your official representation

 **Your Platonic Soulmate:** oh my god i should get business cards

 **Lardo:** call if you need us, babe. we love you x

 **Mom:** Are you ok, baby? Let me know if you need anything. Love Mom xx

 **Papa:** Hi Jack, I just called but you didn’t pick up. I guess you’re not looking at your phone. Please call when you see this. Dad.

Beginning to panic, Jack ignores Shitty’s advice and flicks to the NHL app on his home screen. For a second, he can’t see anything obvious. Then he spots it and his blood runs cold.

> **Parson traded to Falconers**
> 
> Las Vegas Aces captain Kent Parson has been traded to the Providence Falconers in a move that has some scratching their heads, but is likely to ultimately bring the Falconers their first Stanley Cup.
> 
> This trade will reunite one of junior hockey’s most successful pairings, Parson and Jack Zimmermann. Zimmermann, son of legendary Robert ‘Bad Bob’ Zimmermann, signed with the Falconers three years ago after graduating from Samwell University. It will be exciting to see them reunited once Zimmermann returns from mandated medical leave after last year’s –

Jack exists the app, unable to read another word. His nails dig into the palms of his hands, his breath begins to come in shorter bursts and, terrified, his eyes begin to dart around the restaurant. As he tries to work out the quickest path to the outside world, his thoughts fly away from him.

_oh god i can’t breathe why did i leave the house if i just stay home everything is easier why did i do this why am i reacting like this what is wrong with me what is sam going to say what is papa going to say what is mom going to say why am i such a failure why can’t i stand up why can’t i leave this table why aren’t i normal who the fuck reacts like this to an article i’m going to die_

Before he registers what is happening, there is someone sitting across the table from him, refilling his water and pouring themselves a glass. Jack glances up, still fighting to breathe, only to register that it’s Red Beanie. His eyes, embarrassingly wide with panic and beginning to fill with tears, narrow slightly in confusion about this turn of events. Red Beanie blushes.

“Hi, gosh, I’m so sorry to interrupt, and please feel sorry to tell me to go away, but I was sitting over there by myself and I was going to come over and say hi but then that woman started talking to me, which was lovely, it’s so nice to be recognised, but then I saw you looking real panicked so I thought I could just excuse myself and say that I’d just noticed a friend sitting over on the other side of the restaurant and did she mind if I came over here? Again, please tell me if you want me to go away but … I thought, maybe, you didn’t want to be alone.”

Without his noticing it, Jack’s breathing has slowly, painfully, begun to regulate. He grabs his glass of water with a shaking hand and takes an unsteady sip before muttering a soft, “Thank you”.

“Are you OK? Do you want me to go away?”

Jack’s head jerks up as the voices in his head begin to chorus _oh god_ _please don’t leave me like this please i don’t want to be alone._ “No… no, it’s fine. Thank you for coming over.”

Red Beanie smiles gently. “Panic attack?”

Jack pauses for a minute before nodding. Despite all of the evidence, it can still be unpleasant to refer to his attacks as such. It feels like a confirmation of his diagnosis, a weakness, that he doesn’t always want to acknowledge.

“A friend of mine at college used to get them sometimes. I know everyone’s different, but I know for her it helped to take her mind off them. When I saw you start to have trouble, I thought I could come over and kind of ramble for a while if it helped. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s talking. I actually used to have a video blog when I was in college, and I have this thing now which is basically just me talking while I do stuff, stream of consciousness-style, so it’s almost gotten worse but maybe that’s a good thing today, I mean–”

On the one hand, it is humiliating that his attack had been so obvious that a stranger had noticed it. On the other hand, he can almost breathe again, the peppy 90s trash is becoming less grating and he is beginning to be able to contemplate eating in the next hour.

“You’re helping, I promise. Thank you, again.”

“You’re welcome,” Red Beanie replies with a smile.

“So, um… what do you call yourself? I mean, what’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Red Beanie in my head.”

Red Beanie reaches up to his hat, adjusting it self-consciously. “Eric Bittle. Hi.” He holds out his hand.

“Hi. I’m Jack,” is Jack’s soft reply, shaking Eric’s hand and trying to do something more than stare. Eric Bittle is blond and petite and a bit gorgeous, with kind eyes and a mouth that smiles easily. Jack breaks the handshake and crosses his arms, trying to stop his hands from trembling. His heart, which had been returning to normal, is beginning to quicken again.

“What do you do, Jack?”

Jack steels himself before he can answer. He knows it isn’t supposed to be a pointed question, that it’s essentially protocol when you meet new people, so he gives a self-deprecating smile and says, “I play hockey, but I’m taking a break at the moment”.

He watches for the moment of realisation, praying for it not to come, but then he sees Eric’s eyebrows raise and his soft exhale as he puts two and two together.

“Oh! Oh, you’re…”

“Yeah.”

“I played hockey in college. We actually played against Samwell a couple of times. It was a bit terrifying to play against a … team with such a stellar reputation.”

Jack snorts, grateful beyond belief that Eric has decided not to go the Bad Bob, bad reputation route. “Yeah, they were a great team. It was all the guys and management though, you can’t captain a bad ship.”

Eric looks unimpressed but chooses not to press the topic and, for that, Jack could not be more grateful. They are interrupted by the server coming over with Jack’s pho. Eric watches enviously as Jack is given the heaping bowl, a pair of chopsticks and a spoon.

“Oh, gosh, that looks amazing. I’ve come here a couple of times and every time I’m just blown away by how good it all smells. I hope you don’t mind, but I actually asked the server to bring my order over here when it’s ready. We don’t even have to talk, really, if you don’t want. I just thought that it might be better to sit in silence with someone that knows what’s going on. Or, as I said, I’m very happy to just talk. Whatever floats your boat.”

Jack gestures at the dish with his chopsticks. “Do you mind if I start?”

Eric waves a hand at him. “Oh, no, please start! Actually, do you mind if I grab a few pictures before you do? It sounds so dumb, but it’s just something I always do, it’s a work thing.”

Jack, amused, passes his bowl over to Eric, who pulls up a complicated camera app on his phone and takes a few photos which he then shows to Jack. They are gloriously lit, perfectly framed and honestly make the food look better than it looks sitting on the table in front of him, even considering the fact that he can smell the spices and feel its warmth.

He adds some extra bean sprouts, as recommended, and digs into the bowl. The soup is honestly perfect: the noodles are perfectly cooked and, having ordered extra beef, it is protein packed. For whatever reason, that was one habit that he was just never going to break.

They make small talk for a few minutes, which mostly consists of Jack asking questions and then returning to his pho. Eric seems happy enough to talk enough for the both of them, and his food arrives soon after.

Jack examines the plate with no small amount of distaste. “You got the vermicelli? When _this_ is on the menu?”

Eric does look as if he’s regretting his decision. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been here a couple of times and I always get the pho, but now I’m wondering. I write this food blog, so I wanted to try a couple of other things on the menu so I could write about them.”

Jack smiled through his mouthful of noodles. “No way! I actually found this place in a blog post about the best restaurants in the area. I just … a few months ago, I realised that I needed to get out more and I found this blog and the author really seems to know what they’re talking about, all their recommendations have been spot on and earlier today I decided I was overdue some Vietnamese and I –” He snaps his mouth shut.

He isn’t entirely sure what has gotten into him. He rarely speaks more than ten words each time he leaves the house, but for some reason he’s spilling his guts to this man that he hadn’t known for twenty minutes. The only viable explanation is that he’s still riding an uncomfortable high from his earlier attack. That, and he feels unreasonably comfortable with Eric. _Don’t question a good thing_ , Sam’s voice chides in his head. As does Shitty’s, actually.

“What a small world! I wonder if it was my blog, I’ve recommended this place a few times. It used to be mainly recipes, you know, from my mom and my grandma, and a few that I came up with myself, but it sort of took on a life of its own after I moved here. Mama checks it daily, she was basically my own reader for the longest time, so I started writing to her about the food I was eating, the stuff I was doing, and then people started reading it.”

“That’s really great. What is it called?”

“Easy As Pie. Which is silly I know, but I’ve had the domain for years, and in my defence it used to be mainly pie recipes. Which are still my specialty, to be honest. I’m still working on the photography side of things, but the writing stuff is pretty straightforward – it’s just like I’m talking to a camera, but I write it down. As I said before, it’s all very stream of consciousness.”

“Wait, you write Easy As Pie? That’s my blog. I mean, the blog that I read. I actually have one of your blog posts stuck up on a corkboard in my kitchen. It’s all annotated, it actually looks like something on a crime show. All it needs is bits of string on pins. Your recommendations have all been so solid, it’s honestly been a godsend.”

Eric beams at him, pride beaming from every pore. “Oh wow, that’s so funny! What a small world! Well, here’s your chance to be featured in an Easy As Pie post. Guest writer, Jack, shares his thoughts on the beef pho and iced tea. Wait, are you eating extra beansprouts because that’s what I recommended?”

Jack grits his teeth, trying not to smile like an idiot. “Maybe.”

Eric laughs like all of his Christmases have come at once. “Jack, this is amazing! Oh my gosh, you’ll have to come when I go to other restaurants. Maybe it can become a segment – you know, Jack Shares His Thoughts On The City’s Protein-Rich Meal Options.” He smirks as Jack almost bangs his head on the table at the thought of his most famous interview, in which he suggested that his one piece of advice for all new rookies was to eat more protein.

“In my defence, I was caught off-guard with that question. And it was solid advice, everyone should eat more protein. I don’t believe in the Paleo diet or anything faddy, but humans generally don’t get enough protein, and it’s affecting muscle strength and bone structure. Our team nutritionist even came up to me and told me that it had been good advice.”

Eric nods thoughtfully, the glint in his eye suggesting that he remembers, but was kindly not mentioning, the resulting SNL sketch. Or the meme. Or the Buzzfeed articles.

Before Jack realises it, the meal is over. When it comes time to pay, he grabs the bill and pays before Eric has the chance to do anything. He waves off Eric’s protests with an, “Honestly, it’s the least I can do.”

Eric’s eyes widen before he smiles shyly, half-heartedly trying to liberate his wallet from his pocket. “Oh gosh, don’t be silly. It was no trouble at all, I should almost be thanking you for listening. I know sometimes I can talk about everything and nothing, it’s a blessing and a curse, but it’s rare to find someone who actually listens. I’m always being told–”

“Eric,” Jack interjects before the man breaks a finger trying to get into his tight pockets. “It meant a lot. Thank you.”

Now that they’ve paid, the servers are starting to send glares in their direction. Jack checks that his phone’s volume is on before he stuffs it in his jacket pocket – he should probably call Shitty, and his dad – and makes a move to stand up. Before he can get too far, Eric gently grabs his forearm.

“So, I was just wondering if you might want to trade numbers? As I said, it could be fun to do this again, especially if you’re trying to eat your way around the city. I’m always eating alone, part of the job, but if you wanted to come … Oh gosh, we could try twice as many dishes at each restaurant! You could even contribute to the reviews if you wanted – you know, just let me know what you thought. And it was so lovely to meet you, you’re honestly such good conversation … Wait, would that be something you might be interested in? Gosh, I’m being so forward. Please say no if you want to, especially with everything else that is going on in your life, I’m sure you have lots of other things to be doing.”

Jack feels overwhelmed, almost short of breath, and knows that the easiest answer is a polite rejection. Then he realises: this is one of those opportunities that come along once in a blue moon.

He’s having a good day. And Sam would be so proud of him, he might even back off about doing all of his grocery shopping online. And Eric is honestly the nicest person he’s met for a long time. Before he can take the easy route, back out, he nods and blurts out a choked “Why not? I mean, yes”.

He immediately blushes a startling shade of pink. He can feel it going right down his neck.

Eric’s face almost splits in half with the power of his smile.

“Great! Oh, I can’t wait. And I’m definitely getting the next bill, I can’t believe you grabbed this one before I got the opportunity.”

Jack laughs. “It’s kind of my job to have good reflexes.”

Eric rolls his eyes, but it’s affectionate. “I suppose that’s true.”

They slowly make their way out of the restaurant. Jack grabs a business card on the way out. This may well be one to stick on the Cork Board of Fame. One for the record books, as it were. The start of something new.

He holds the door open for Eric, then makes his way out after him into the fresh fall air. Fallen leaves are littering the streets and there’s a distinct chill in the air. Winter is definitely coming.

Eric adjusts his beanie for a few seconds before visibly gathering the courage to ask, “Is there any chance you want to go grab dessert or a coffee or something?”

Jack is torn for a few seconds before deciding that the evening had been about as action-packed as he could handle. “I wish I could, but I think it might be time for me to head home. Let’s do something else this week though, OK?” He reaches down to kiss Eric on the cheek, just stopping himself before he goes for the other cheek. He doesn’t want to seem like he’s doing anything less than proclaiming his interest.

Eric smiles softly, brilliantly. “It was a genuine pleasure to meet you, Jack.”

“The feeling is mutual, Eric Bittle.”

Jack stands on the corner and watches Eric reaching into his pocket to find his headphones as he makes his way to the bus stop. He plugs them into his phone and scrolls for a few seconds before rounding the corner and disappearing.

Jack hasn’t walked more than fifty yards before his phone dings.

 **Unknown Number:** I had a really good time tonight.

 **Unknown Number:** In case I didn’t make that clear.

 **Unknown Number:** I’m sorry that it had to start with you feeling less than optimal, but hopefully we brought it back? :)

 **Unknown Number:** Oh, it’s Eric.

He smiles at his phone before replying, “Hi Eric. It’s Jack.”

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone experiences panic attacks and anxiety differently. This depiction is true to my life, but was not intended to be universal. Let me know if you think any tags are missing. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://murrayhewitt.tumblr.com) if you're so inclined.
> 
> EDIT: To all my fellow Melbournians (who are apparently out there), they're basically eating at Miss Chu. Go forth and eat delicious food.


End file.
